Beautiful Hope
by wordflows
Summary: Oneshot. 'The thing that made her most beautiful was her hope.'


**Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. . Forever3330 .**

Beautiful HopeA Rekka No Ken fanfiction

By Forever3330

            The thing that made her most beautiful was her hope. Many would say this didn't make her beautiful, for even if she was attractive, she had no personality to boast of.

            But didn't she?

            It wasn't as if she couldn't keep secrets. She'd sworn her oath to protect secrets entrusted to her, as all who walked Elimine's path had, and she would follow that oath always. She would talk for hours on end, yes, but normally because she detested silence, and it scared her. It had always scared her, because silence meant to her the word 'alone', as she had been. She knew, in a way, that her fantasies weren't true. That she wasn't really a noble lady with a family who would come for her, sweeping her from the lonely, cold nunnery she knew.

            Those were fantasies. But fantasies were her hope, at the time, and they sufficed. One could not go on without the hint, the teasing whisper, of something better, something to be hoped for, something to look forward to each day. And if one did, were they truly going on?

            She was cheerful. Always. But what then, was the use of moping always? You couldn't change what you were thrown into. You just had to make the best of it, even if it meant wishing and hoping and praying and then acting, still entangled in the hopes you'd made, fragile dreams taking flight. She knew as well as any she could be dead the next moment, or not there the moment she was there, and she didn't want to live the sort of life where she'd regret not smiling, not laughing. If anything, her laughter would be heard from the grave, and it would help those she left behind to smile, if they mourned.

            It wasn't as if she didn't think about things other then shallow-water thoughts that flicked about in the sunlight, barely there one moment and gone the next. But why should she share these thoughts, the deeper, tangible butterflies, when the people she cared for needed those shallow thoughts to keep them attached to the sky, not pulled into the ocean beyond her repair?

            She was beautiful like that. Those little things, those quirky things, the way she'd explain the oddest of things to a perfect, odd sense. The way she'd laugh, lightly, and tease about things others would call insane, speaking in a light tone and yelping and shouting whenever she felt the need.

            None of her important emotions were to be missed. Serra wanted every single important thing to her to get across so that they would know just in case. Just in case maybe. Always that maybe, no matter how much she would hope and believe in the not-maybe.

            He knew that, all of it. He didn't know why he didn't tell her he knew it, just as he didn't know why she didn't care whether or not everyone really understood her perfectly, or how she came across, so long as her heart was there to be read.

            He could never do that. Be so open. It almost made her fragile, in a way.

            Wearing her heart out so proudly to show, she left it so very, very open to breaking. She would cry and laugh and sing and dance whenever it took her to do so, and he would watch in awe, and think about how that hope allowed her to do so, that hope that she would be understood, that it would make a difference, and that maybe her heart wouldn't be broken, the hope that lit her entire being, spreading about to light those around her.

            But then, he could never do that. He hid his heart behind books and blank looks, comments and raised eyebrows, letting himself be Erk and simply that, no more and no less, and leaving it up to people to leave him alone so he wouldn't need to fight to hide.

            Of course, Serra rarely liked to let people alone, brow creased ever-so-slightly with worry and a smile spread brightly against pale skin still more sun-kissed then his own. She poked, prodded, annoyed, surprised, and generally scared his heart into the open whenever she had the chance, and she made sure she had the chance often.

            No matter how many times he argued or cast a remark that had to sting, the rose-haired cleric would cluck her tongue, twine her arm around his, and pull the protesting mage out of the tent without a second glance back at the books they'd leave scattered on the floors.

            She would pull him anywhere she felt like. Talks with others in the 'army', random walks that were normally more trouble then they were worth, picnics, and sometimes stargazing if she felt like waking him at night for no reason other then wanting to see the stars.

            And somehow she always won.

            He knew he wasn't the only one affected by her, even if he was the most largely affected. He'd seen the girl talk Matthew, Matthew of all people, tricky thief who could hold his own against a mad lord and a crazy swordsman who had it out for him, into doing simple things like planting flowers, because that nice old woman in the village really did need a hand, and wouldn't it just be wonderful to do?

            In a way, she tended to have that effect on most people.

            She always had that confidence, that defiant hope that no matter what she did people would still be there and help and she could wear her heart out. It was beautiful.

            And even as she stood there and told him, in a very frank tone he knew was the one she used most often and favored, that she was madly in love with him, and would very much like to know his feelings on the subject, Serra smiled at Erk, as openly as ever, hope still in her eyes. She'd spoken of love and not minding if he loved someone else, hinting around long enough and blatantly enough so that he understood she meant Priscilla, though she could also mean anyone else he may like, and told him that she would still be there if he did, even if she would love him still. They could still be friends, of course, if he didn't mind her being madly in love with him.

            "So," Serra tilted her head, smiling, eyebrow quirked, "What do you think?"

            After staring at the girl for a long, long time, as did a few of the other members of their little band, who had happened to be around when Serra decided she wanted to confess her love to Erk, because she was now absolutely sure after a mildly long debate with herself, Erk blinked.

            Serra wore her emotions openly, after all.

            He must have been being painfully dense to have to have her explain it to him, and decided he must have been especially so considering the looks he was getting from  Rebecca, who was well known for her intolerance of dense men, as well as her rather recent friendship with Serra.

            And he? He didn't show his much at all, until the girl bashed her way into his life with hardly a word and a bright smile, and pulled him along after her because she thought he was rather tidy, and he was amusing to watch when flustered, which had become something different altogether.

            And that…that.

            "I think you're beautiful." And with that said, Erk managed to borrow enough of the hope that Serra had in abundance, and kissed the girl.

END

Notes: O.o; o.O; Weeeell. So I have been seduced into yet another category. - Whee! More time to procrastinate working on all those things I should be working on! O.o;; looks around nervously to make sure no one plans on throwing things at her


End file.
